Witchling
by BookBabbles
Summary: Cecily Crochan has had many titles in her life. Princess, Lady of Terrasen, murderer, thief, survivor. That was Cecily's favorite title: survivor. It was a slap to the King of Adarlan, the man who had killed so many. But he hadn't killed Cecily. She had gotten away. But when her queen comes calling the time comes for Cecily to prove just how much of a survivor she was.{Hof,QoS,EoS}


The wind whipped Cecily Crochan's hair as she tracked through the Wastes. It wasn't often they had rainstorms here, but when they did it was a nightmare. The sand and dirt turned to mud, and each step was an effort of will. Cecily wondered if it would have been easier if she'd had her immortal body, she supposed so. She had only known the blessings of immortality for eight years before magic had disappeared. She hadn't thought much of it until it was gone, until she no longer had the speed, strength, and control of an immortal. Cecily knew it was worse for the others, those who had experienced centuries of living with magic. How many times had Rhianna complained to her about it? Cecily had rolled her eyes at her cousin-queen, but it was times like these that Cecily understood her cousins wish to be immortal again.

Cecily almost cried with relief as she saw where the castle was. Of course, she didn't actually _see_ the castle. One could only see it when crochan blood was spilled at the base of the wards. Cecily had only found it through a stroke of luck, and mercy from the Gods. She supposed that after what the Gods had put her through it was the least they could do. Her leg had been bloody from a tangle with a wild cat, she had only escaped by a blast if accidental magic, but the animal had still left her leg scarred. A drop of blood had found its way into the earth, and the castle had appeared. Now Cecily drew a dagger from her side, and cut a shallow cut on her forearm, letting blue blood spill out. She turned her arm over and allowed the blood to fall onto the grass. The air shimmered, and an old castle that looked like it was crumbling the pieces appeared. Cecily smiled, despite the rain that was still soaking through her clothes. She made her way down to the castle, pushed open the giant doors, and stepped inside.

Inside the castle it was dark, the storm casting a gray glow over the foyer. No one had bothered to light the chandelier, as witches their eyes adjusted better to the dark then humans' eyes did. Cecily stalked through the corridors of the castle with no hesitation. She knew these halls better then she knew herself, she'd been roaming them since she was eight years old.

The first person Cecily encountered was a male by the name of Mar. Mar was one of the rare male witches. There were only ten left in the entire crochan community, as far as Cecily knew male witches had always been rare due to the fact that the iron teeth only gave birth females. Crochan witches in general were rare as it was, for the ironteeth had not forgotten the curse that Cecily's grandmother had cast. Cecily had never met her grandmother, the crochan queen had died long before Cecily had been born, but she knew she resembled the women. If only because Cecily's cousin resembled their grandmother, and Cecily looked like her cousin.

"Mar." Cecily gave the witch an incline of her head as they passed.

Mar bowed to Cecily, and grinned at her. It was a grin that Mar knew infuriated Cecily. He'd once given her that smile when was eleven. Her training that morning had consisted of shoveling the horse dun, it had been supposed to teach her discipline, but all it had done was put her in a foul. And when Mar had commented on her smell to try to rile her spirits Cecily had been so put out that she had flung herself at him. He'd been so surprised that they crashed onto the floor. The male had laughed while Cecily pummeled her fists against his chest. That was, he'd laughed until one of her fists collided with his nose, and had broken it. That was when Rhianna had intervened; though the brunette witch had been laughing so hard she'd made herself hoarse.

"You're looking well, Your Highness." Sarcasm coated his words, and Cecily knew what he implied was true. Cecily knew she was beautiful, as all the witches were beautiful in one exotic way or another, but Cecily also knew she looked like crap at the moment. The princess decided to blamed the storm.

"If you had trudged through the rain, and mud for days on end I'm sure you would look much better then me."

He smirked. "Most likely."

Cecily rolled her eyes at Mar. She threw up her hands in mock frustration, "I'll just never win with you, will I?" Mar grinned again; it was a softer grin this time however. Cecily shook her head, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as she passed. She continued down the corridor, passing a few witches here and there, but not stopping to talk to any of them. Finally she reached the large oak doors that led to the throne room. Cecily opened them to reveal her cousin standing at the table in the middle of the room. Rhianna glanced up at Cecily, and smiled. Cecily had always loved Rhianna's smile. So few had ever seen it. Rhianna was beautiful all the time, but when she smiled her whole face lit up, her features brightened, and she looked younger, almost girlish. The crochans were witches, but they weren't known for their brutality, or cruelties as the ironteeth were. The crochans had been known for their magic. Magic was rare among the witches, but when it cropped up in the bloodline whoever was blessed was incredibly powerful. They had gotten the magic from their fae ancestors. It was that, and the vacancy of iron nails and claws, that separated the crochans from the ironteeth.

While the blackbeaks, bluebloods, and yellowlegs hardly ever married, or had any relationships other then flings here and there, the crochans loved not freely, but passionately. They gave their love only to those who absolutely deserved it. To those who had earned it through, blood, and pain, and sacrifice. But even after almost eleven years with the crochans Cecily still found her heart human, even if her mannerisms were not.

Until she was eight years old she had been raised in the glistening palace of Orynth along side Princesses and Princes. Her father had served as a lord in King Orlon's inner circle before Terrasen fell. Cecily, despite being a child of illegitimate birth, was announced to be her father's heir. No one knew who her mother was, other then the fact she had been a crochan witch. Her father didn't even know. As it turned out, Cecily's mother had been the second child of Queen Rhianna Crochan the first. She had died before Cecily had ever met her, murdered by Baba Yellowlegs herself. Her mother's brother had been murdered years before by the Blackbeak Matron, leaving only Rhianna, named for her the girls's grandmother, the last surviving member of the crochan royal line. Or so everyone thought. No one knew why her mother had dropped her off on Terrasen's doorstep. Rhianna had known who she was immediately, though, by her scent, or looks Cecily still didn't know.

Now looking at Rhianna Cecily felt a surge of warmth, her cousin held out her hand, and the younger witch scampered forward and took it. Rhianna squeezed gently before letting go. "How did your scouting go?"

"Better then last time."

Rhianna grimaced, "I thought you told me to never bring that up?"

Cecily shrugged, "I'm feeling particularly sarcastic today. I trudged through miles of mud, and I haven't had a proper bath in two weeks."

Rhianna shook her head, motioning with her hand for Cecily to take the chair to her right. "What did you find at the Blueblood keep?"

Cecily grimaced, this was not news she would enjoy telling Rhianna. "There was only fifty witches there, sixty at most. The Matron, heir, and both of their personal covens were gone."

Rhianna's hand stilled on top of the paperwork she had been rifling through. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. They're planning something, I'm sure of it. Why? Did Tatiana find anything at the Yellowlegs keep?"

Tatiana was Rhianna's second, and the scariest witch Cecily had ever met. She was over seven hundred year old, and had cold cunning eyes that suggested she'd slaughter her fair share of humans, witches, and fae alike. Rhianna licked her lips before answering. "No, she didn't find anything at the keep, but she saw twelve different covens of Yellowlegs taking a trip in the direction of Morath."

Cecily raised her eyebrows, and ran a hand over her face. "Well, that certainly isn't good."

Rhianna pursed her lips, "no, it's definitely not." Rhianna's fingers drummed a beat onto the top of the table. It was the way she got out her anxiety, Cecily knew. Every witch was taught from birth to study their enemies so thoroughly that something as simple as channeling your fears into a your fingers, or toes could be a tell to show just how afraid, or anxious you actually were, no matter how calm your other features were. Humans almost always had some habit that they didn't even know about.

"What's wrong, Rhianna?"

Rhianna collapsed into the chair next to Cecily's, sighing before she spoke. "Before I was born my father had an affair with a Blackbeak witch."

Cecily went deadly still, she knew that her face must have been as pale as a sheet. She didn't know what to say, had never heard a whisper of this affair, from Rhianna, or any of the other witches who were old enough to know.

"The affair got the blackbeak pregnant with my half-sister." Cecily wasn't breathing; Rhianna had a sister, or had _had_ a sister. She didn't want to think what the Blackbeaks would do to a half-crochan witchling. Would they kill her, or accept her as one of their own? That was, if they even knew about the witches lineage.

Finally, Cecily found her voice, raw as it might be. "How long before you were born?"

"Not long, ten years, maybe a few more."

"Why are you telling me this now? Does it have something to do with the movement of the ironteeth?"

Cecily was on the edge of her seat, almost falling out of it. Rhianna turned her head to meet her cousin's gaze. "Because after one hundred years I found out who my sister is."

So the witch was alive then. However, from the look in Rhianna's eyes it was not a pleasant unveiling. Cecily tilted her head in question. Rhianna's face seemed to darken as she said, "Manon Blackbeak, the white demon, is my sister."


End file.
